


the luckiest bastard in westeros

by nymja



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for 8x3, Tumblr fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: Tormund makes a soundless whistle and leans back, running his hands up and down his thighs in a way Gendry suspects is to clean them from whatever he’s been eating.What he says next has Gendry choking on his ale.“You fucking her, then?”





	the luckiest bastard in westeros

Gendry smells Tormund before he hears him, some kind of meat and ale on his breath, as the wildling leans to the side to whisper loudly in his ear.

“They say the little one killed him.” His eyebrows go up in a way that makes his quick look across the fire comical. “With a little dagger.” 

“She did,” he says softly. 

His eyes haven’t looked away from Arya since they collectively gathered in the hall. It was a meager fare, a handful of them sitting by the fire rather than a grander set with tables and all. But it suited Gendry just fine.

From where she sits next to her sister and brothers, Arya looks up and catches his gaze.

Lots in Winterfell suited Gendry just fine. 

At his affirmation, Tormund makes a soundless whistle and leans back, running his hands up and down his thighs in a way Gendry suspects is to clean them from whatever he’s been eating.

What he says next has Gendry choking on his ale.

“You fucking her, then?”

He starts coughing, praying to the old gods and the new that no one heard the self-professed Giant’s bane.

Tormund shrugs, nonplussed. “Should be, if you’re not.”

“That’s none your business!” He finally manages.

He narrows his eyes at him, then widens them in surprise. “You  _are_ fucking her! Ha!”

“ _Shut up.”_

Tormund thumps him hard enough on the back that Gendry pitches forward, then stands. 

“Try an’ be man enough for her, yeah?” He lowers his voice into that loud whisper again. “She killed the fucking Night King. Everybody’ll be wanting that bed.”

Then the wildling stands, smoothing his unruly mane back with a hand as he clicks something out of his teeth with his tongue. “Now I’ve got to go find the big woman.”

Tormund leaves, and Gendry sits alone, watching her with his elbows resting on his knees. A small, proud smile makes its way to his face. And he feels like a right idiot, for the worry that’s starting to make its way into his stomach now that the battle’s over. 

They haven’t talked. ‘Bout anything.

Not that he was upset, because he wasn’t. She was a hero, and heroes always had something people needed them for. They had kissed after they found each other on the field, but he knows that that might not mean anything more. Neither of them had promised anything beyond the night before, and he was starting to feel stupid. They were friends. He was an idiot if he wanted his hopes up more than that-

He doesn’t even hear the approach, instead he feels something warm resting on the side of his arm. He looks down, eyes widening.

“What’re you doing?”

Her eyes are closed as she leans against him. “Resting, stupid.”

“You sure you want that? There’s people all around-”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

His grin is wide and feels like it’s going to split his face. And on impulse, he kisses the top of her head.

Arya lets out a little hm noise, adjusting as Gendry puts his arm around her shoulders. It takes less than a minute before he starts to hear short, soft little snores.

He might just be the luckiest bastard in Westeros.


End file.
